He turned his head away, but his hands had instinctively gripped her waist.
Bloody hell.
Lady Melanie wasn’t just any woman, she was related to two of the Rotten Rakes—trusted colleagues. And Malum never mixed business with pleasure. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little tortured when she turned, wiggling—God help him—and scooted back onto the bench, just as the coach came to a halt outside Preston Hall.
Anxious to check the baby’s condition for himself, Malum threw the door open and stepped outside. He held out his hand to the woman behind him, steadying her with a grip that was firm but deliberately brief—because he’d already allowed himself one lapse in judgment today, and that was more than enough.
Ernest had been fine when Malum left very early that morning. What could have changed in the course of less than a day?
He resisted clenching his fists.
Malum had hired a new nursemaid, that was what.
He’d barely stepped inside when Mrs. Appleton appeared at the bottom of the steps, dressed in what he assumed were her traveling clothes, wringing her hands.
“I returned as soon as I received Mr. Tipton’s message. I never would have taken leave if I’d known... Not that babies are my specialty.” Her gaze shifted to Lady Melanie, right behind him. “I just now sent word to theDomus, regardingthat womanfrom the agency, Your Grace.”
“Too late for that.” Malum’s words came out clipped as he climbed the stairs two at a time. The fact that his neighbor had come to him first spoke none too well for his staff.
Lady Melanie did not scurry back to her own home as he half expected, to watch the unfolding drama from behind the safety of her curtains. Instead, she continued to trail him, andeven managed to keep up surprisingly well considering her short stature.
For all intents and purposes, she’d been helpful—he couldn’t deny that, but he didn’t want her help. He didn’t want anyone’s help. For nearly four decades, he’d managed to solve his own problems, thank you very much. Or pay others to.
But as he neared the nursery, these thoughts fell away when he became aware of Ernest’s cries, not strong and hearty like they’d been the night before, but weak and tired. The baby’s voice sounded almost raw, as though he’d been at it for hours.
Stopping outside the door, Malum inhaled a deep breath, curbing the impulse to kick it down—not for the nursemaid’s sake, but because he didn’t want to put Ernest at risk, or scare him in any way.
Lady Melanie arrived beside him, and when Malum turned to meet her gaze, an unexpected connection passed between them.
He raised his brows.We’ll go in quietly, he thought, and she nodded.
As he eased the door open, pitiful crying sounds came into sharper clarity, and Malum felt a squeezing in his chest. When he caught sight of the nurse—who he’d foolishly not taken the time to vet himself—that squeezing sensation turned hot and angry.
The damned woman was lounging in the rocking chair as if she had not a care in the world. There were twisted up pieces of cloth stuffed in her ears to block out the sound, and her eyes were closed. Was—was she sleeping?
Protecting women was a good part of his life’s work, and yet, in that moment, he could easily have strangled Mrs.…
Hell, he didn’t even know her name.
How was it possible that he was so careful with employees at theDomus, but would be so careless with who he’d leave in charge of an innocent baby?
Lady Melanie wasted no time, rushing across the room to scoop Ernest up and out of the cradle. The tiny infant, his eyes swollen and face red, quieted some in her arms, but still choked out little gasps and cries. After tucking one miniature flailing fist against her chest, Lady Melanie glanced up, holding Malum’s gaze meaningfully.
“I don’t think he’s fevered,” she said, and he felt the same relief he saw on her face.
For a mad second, the world seemed to shift beneath his feet.
Ignoring it, he stepped up to the sleeping maid. Although her clothing suggested she was a professional, it was the only aspect that did.
The woman’s head slumped forward so that her chin rested on her chest, and a line of drool trailed down from the corner of her mouth. By God, she really was asleep.
Malum narrowed his eyes. This woman might be immune to the sounds of an infant in want of attention, but she would not ignorehispresence. She would quickly learn that she’d chosen the wrong child to neglect.
Not that any child was deserving of such, but Ernest hadn’t been left on just anyone’s steps.
Malum gave the rocking chair a none-too-gentle tap with his foot and… nothing. He gave it a harder thump and this time, her eyes fluttered open. Before she could rub away the sleep in her eyes, she startled at the sight of Malum looming over her like a thundercloud.
“Your name,” he demanded.
